


Growing Up the Hard Way... Again

by TWSLAC



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: De-Aged, Family, Family Feels, growupagain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWSLAC/pseuds/TWSLAC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor is cursed with an incurable de-aging spell. He has to grow up all over again, retaining no memories as an adult, replaying every important moment in his life, good and bad. The Inquisition has to deal with varying emotional and age ranges, while learning far too much about the Inquisitor's past, and the scars on his back.</p><p>WARNING: Some minor triggers for abuse, kidnapping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 7 Days Old

Nights at Skyhold were generally quite festive. Nights meant another day survived and one day closer until the time the Inquisitor will defeat the Demon and save everyone. They were a celebration of the lives of those who have past, lives of those still living and the lives still yet to begin. They often began with a brief update of events and decisions made throughout the day, followed closely by the Inquisitor either running in, late; or being physically dragged through the doors leading to his room. After that, the Inquisitor gave a quick, often awkward toast to those present and lost before he would sit at the head of the table. Then the meal would begin. Every night what was essentially a feast would be placed all along the tables within the Great Hall and larger tables outside in the courtyard. The grandest of all foods were set along these tables, as the Inquisition insisted that the Inquisitor eat as well as a King or Emperor, while the Inquisitor insisted that he would not eat anything the rest of the Inquisition didn’t eat. Merry-making was had until late in the night when everyone was ushered to their respective rooms or tents to sleep until the next day. The next opportunity for success, and the next opportunity to lose more of their own.

It wasn’t a particularly different night from those that had come before. In hindsight, some people had realised that something wasn’t quite right. A woman none had seen before had been hovering around not only the kitchen, but the head of the table itself. At the time, it was not something that drew too much attention. Many people were fond of the Inquisitor, and he nearly always made the time to simply spend time with them. So it was not unusual for a member of the Inquisition, no matter how known or unknown they were, to hover around were everyone knew the Inquisitor would be at any given time. What was unusual, everyone had later agreed, was how she left the moment the food arrived without a single attempt to talk to him. However, nights were times of merriment and the strange woman with long black hair was soon forgotten in the wake of fabulous feasts, expensive ale and the company of friends. At least, she was forgotten for a time.

The night was in full swing, the Inner Circle a mix of war stories and awkward situations as ever, trying to beat each other in the best stories when it occurred. No-one really noticed at first. The Inquisitor himself barely even knew something was wrong when his head started spinning until he realised that he hadn’t been drinking any ale. The dizziness came first. It was easily ignored for a while, as he was very tired and dizziness was a sign that one needed rest. It’s when his very bones and organs began to almost clench up inside him that he realised that all was not as it seemed. Leliana noticed first, as she always does. The Inquisitor had curled into himself slightly, face tight and breathing strained. She climbed to her feet slowly and casually, before walking towards the Inquisitor. She nudged each member of the Inner Circle as she passed before slowly pulling the almost completely limp Inquisitor up to his feet. The room went silent, every eye turning to the front of the hall. Those members of the Inner Circle Leliana had not been able to notify quickly recognised the situation for what it was, remaining as they were. Leliana let out a small smile, one even those who knew her would not believe was fake.

“It appears that our most esteemed Inquisitor seems to have lost his tolerance for good ale.” She explained, pulling the Inquisitor’s right arm over her shoulder. A chorus of laughter filled the air as everyone returned to their food, ale and conversations. Any curiosity they may have had sated. Leliana quickly led the Inquisitor from the hall, heading towards the Inquisitor’s own chambers. Dorian, Vivienne and Solas were in quick pursuit, the remainder of the Inner Circle lingering at the feast so as not to draw suspicion. The moment they entered the sanctuary of the Inquisitor’s rooms, Leliana lowered him to the floor, no time to waste getting him to the bed. Before any of the mages could even touch him, the Inquisitor seemed to erupt with light from the inside out, the white light blinding the four in the room with him and signalling to the others outside that something was seriously not right. 

Mere seconds had passed since the flash before the rest of the Inner Circle appeared in the Inquisitor’s main rooms. Each pushing past one another to try and get a glimpse at their leader. Who was no longer there. In his place, was a small child, perhaps even a newborn swamped in the clothes the Inquisitor had been wearing.

“What… what is this?” Josephine managed to voice first. As if her speaking had broken a vow of silence, everyone else erupted into panicking noise.

“Enough!” Solas shouted, leaning towards the child and gently placing his left hand on its brow. Silence fell. 

“It is the Inquisitor.” Solas stated simply, pulling his hand back and sitting back on his heels. Dorian and Vivienne each took turns confirming this for themselves.

“How?” Cullen asked, leaning over Sera to stare at the now very young  
Inquisitor a strange expression on his face. Vivienne slowly gathered the Inquisitor into her arms, wrapping him tightly in what used to be his shirt.

“It appears to be a simple aging potion. It will not harm him and will wear off in a couple of days’ time. Unfortunately,” she continued as chatter began to break out once more, glaring at the culprits. “It is not the sort of curse one should attempt to break. It has been placed on him by a powerful being. It would be safer for him for us to let it ‘play out’ as it should.” She explained.

“Do you know how it works exactly?” Iron Bull asks, tilting his head curiously at the small creature that was now the Inquisitor.

“No.” Dorian stated easily, poking at the Inquisitor’s stomach gently with one finger. “We’ll be able to figure out the specifics of the spell as time passes.”

“Oh,” Sera said, frowning. “That’s rather inconvenient isn’t it?” She asked, gazing vacantly at the Inquisitor. Everyone went silent for a moment, staring at the child in Vivienne’s arms.

“He’s rather cute isn’t he?” Varric asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room. There were murmurs of agreement as everyone crowded in closer. In adulthood, the Inquisitor was a tanned, dark-brown haired, light blue eyed, rather roguishly handsome man. As a child, he was smaller than average, pale and had soft features that added to his charm. What little hair was on his head seemed to be light brown and he had yet to open his eyes. 

“Can I hold him?” Sera asked, arms already held out. Everyone turned to her with frowns on their faces at the exact time.

“No.” A couple of people said. Sera frowned.

“I drop a baby one time, and now I can’t cuddle the Inquisitor,” she grumbled. Everyone ignored her however as the Inquisitor began to slowly open his eyes, limbs shifting slightly and soft cooing noises coming from his throat. Everyone leaned in even further as he opened electric blue eyes, yawning.

“He’s confused,” Cole stated from the back of the group. Everyone turned to face him, surprised. Cole stared back at them.

“Wait,” Cullen said. “You can use your abilities on him too?” He asked. Cole nodded, slowly moving forward.

“He’s tired, but not. He doesn’t understand how to feel properly yet.” Cole explained, leaning over Vivienne’s arms to stare at the Inquisitor. There was silence for a moment before choked sob left the swathe of clothing in Vivienne’s arms. Everyone stared at Cole, faces ranging from confused to outright panic as the Inquisitor burst into tears.

“He’s figured out how to be hungry now.” Cole stated, stepping back. Immediately everyone looked around at each other, expressions of unease on their face. Varric peered over towards the bawling Inquisitor, an unimpressed look on his face.

“So, anyone know how to feed a newborn child?”


	2. 5 Years Old

It had been a long night. Leliana of all people had taken the Inquisitor to the kitchen to be fed, and when she had finally come back he was asleep once more. Finally they all agreed that they could do nothing useful hovering around the child and resolved to turn in to bed, Leliana taking the Inquisitor with her. It was a new morning, and unsurprisingly all members of the Inner Circle were hovering anxiously in the hall, waiting for Leliana to return with their Inquisitor. They were not however, expecting a child, approximately five years of age to storm into the room with all the attitude of a god, trying his hardest to look down on them even as he stood not even to their waists. He had light brown hair that glinted blonde when light caught it, bright blue eyes, a pale complexion and the same soft features that the newborn from yesterday bore. He wore only light sleepwear and nothing more. He was chased into the room by a disgruntled looking spymaster who had a distinctly cross look on her face. The child stopped in front of them, arms crossed in front of him as he turned to look at Leliana, a matching expression on his face.

“Well?” He asked, his youthful voice ringing lightly through the air. Leliana sighed as the others looked on in confusion and amusement.

“I’d like to introduce you to Lord Quinton Trevelyan,” she said, putting an emphasis on his title as she glared down at him. “Youngest son of the Trevelyan family.” She finished. He sniffed daintily, noise turned up into the air.

“Inadequate.” Was all he said, before he walked through the crowd of bemused adults in front of him, climbed onto the throne and sat there as if he belonged there. Even though technically he did.

“Also known as the Inquisitor,” Leliana added a scornful look on her face as the boy looked around the room with unconcealed distaste. The Inner Circle quickly gathered around her.

“What is going on?” Blackwall asked, eyes still fixed on the child sitting on the Inquisitor’s throne.

“It would seem that our cute Inquisitor from yesterday has grown into a selfish, spoiled, entitled brat.” Leliana grumbled. At everyone’s surprised stares she sighed.

“He woke me up at midnight when he transformed, and the moment he grew into this size he immediately began treating me like a servant.” She scowled for a moment. “Less than a servant actually and more like a bug that was stuck to his shoe.” She glared over at him sighing again. Iron Bull laughed, earning another sharp glare from Leliana.

“This is definitely a different person than we are used to.” He said, grinning and shaking his head.

“Indeed,” Dorian mused. “I am curious as to how a child like this turned into the self-sacrificial, kind man we call our leader.”

“A lot of effort and hard work it would seem.” Solas said with a small smile.

“Servants!” The Inquisitor, no, Quinton called. He would not earn that title until far later in his life. The group turned to him simultaneously, many eyebrows raised. Dorian stepped forward with a grin.

“What is it my lord?” He asked, bowing mockingly. Quinton glared at him.

“I demand to be taken to your leader. If I am to be abducted I demand to know why.” He ordered, his young voice slurring the words slightly. The Inner Circle all stared at each other in surprise.

“Abducted?” Cullen asked, eyes wide.

“Yes,” Cole said quietly, head tilted to the side. “He went to bed in his home and woke up here. He had been warned about people who might try to steal him so this is what he assumes.” He explained. Leliana made a small noise of realisation.

“He did seem rather frightened at first when he woke up. It would make sense if this was why.”

“I see,” Vivienne mused, hand rising to her chin in thought. “At each age interval he retains the physical form and memories of that age,” she said, before looking over at Quinton. 

“And clothes it would seem, unless you managed to find those in your room?” She asked, laughing at the expression on Leliana’s face.

“Should we not tell him that he has not, in fact been abducted?” Cassandra asked, face slightly creased in worry.

“It certainly might change his behaviour,” Josephine pointed out. Agreement spread throughout the group and Varric walked up towards the child.

“Ah, Lord Trevelyan,” Varric began with a dramatic flourish. Quinton stared at him, face expressionless. “Unfortunately there seems to have been a misunderstanding.” He explained. Quinton’s head tilted to the side in a movement very familiar to the group before him. The Inquisitor often did that when he was confused.

“You have not been abducted like you thought.” Varric continued. “A spell was cast on you somehow, transporting you to this place. Be assured that a letter to the Trevelyan’s has been sent detailing your location and an offer to invite you to remain here as a guest until such time that your family can retrieve you.” He finished. There was silence in the hall for a moment, Quinton deliberating and the other’s somewhat speechless at Varric’s ease in lying to a child, and their Inquisitor as young as he may be.

“Very well,” Quinton said, slipping down from the chair and walking over to Varric.

“He really is young isn’t he?” Sera asked, eyes slightly sad. Cullen made a questioning noise, eyes on Quinton and Varric.

“Only a child would believe only words when their own lives are potentially in danger.” She explained. Cullen also began to frown at the thought.

“Then it is a good thing that it is our words he believes.” Solas said, walking past them to Varric and Quinton.

“Would you like us to retrieve more appropriate clothes for you?” He asked when he arrived. Quinton looked up at him with scorn.

“How dare you speak to me as such?” Quinton asked disdainfully. Everyone went still with shock.

“Pardon?” Solas asked, surprised.

“Mind your place, knife-ears and do not speak to your betters with such familiarity.” Quinton said, before storming towards the exit of the hall. “Come dwarf. You will show me my quarters.” He said as he left. Varric slowly followed Quinton, eyes locked onto Solas’ with shock. He shrugged helplessly before chasing after the boy. The moment the he turned the corner out in the courtyard, the Inner Circle gathered around Solas this time. There was a large amount of gathering involved in a de-aging spell they began to realise.

“That was…” Sera began, eyes wide.

“Messed up?” Iron Bull provided. Sera nodded slowly, frowning.

“He’s a noble,” Josephine said sadly. “Unfortunately that particular way of thought is often ingrained in the minds of the young.” Cullen sighed, shaking his head.

“I certainly hope he grows out of it tomorrow.”


	3. 7 Years Old

Not long after the sun had risen above the horizon, the majority of the Inner Circle were meeting for breakfast; once again eagerly awaiting the presence of the Spymaster and their young leader. After the incident that occurred last time, the initial plan was for Varric to greet Quinton considering the child’s apparent affections towards him, and for Solas, Sera and Iron Bull to stand closer to the back so as to avoid another bout of insults.  
Even Iron Bull hadn’t finished his breakfast when Leliana ran into the room, eyes wide and face sightly pale. Immediately everyone rose from their seats, abandoning their meals and headed towards the uncharacteristically shaken Spymaster.

“Leliana? What’s wrong?” Cullen asked, reaching out the grab her arm once she was in reach.

“I can’t find him!” She said, eyes dark a frown settling onto her forehead.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Vivienne asked, face deeply set in worry. Leliana turned to her in annoyance.

“Exactly what it sounds like. I woke this morning and he wasn’t there.” She explained, turning back to the majority of the Inner Circle.

“Everyone spread out and search the whole of Skyhold. Send a message out the moment he is discovered.” Cullen ordered, turning around and jogging towards the Inquisitor’s quarters. The rest of the Inner Circle scattered, Dorian heading to the library, Sera to the smithy, Iron Bull to the pub and Cassandra to the armoury. It was Blackwall who found him, not long after the search had begun. Near the kitchens in the lower level where numerous unused rooms full of old tapestries and dusty old books rested, mostly undisturbed. It was under a cobweb covered desk in one of these rooms that Blackwall found the shivering figure of the missing child. Heading back to the kitchen, Blackwall sent the message detailing Quinton’s location to the rest of the group before sliding quietly into the room once more. He could hear the tell-tale hitch of Quinton’s breathing when the child noticed his presence.

“Quinton?” Blackwall asked, slowly sliding to the floor by the door. From that angle he could see Quinton’s bare, and horrifyingly, bloodied feet and not much else sticking out from behind the desk. Another hitch in his breathing as Blackwall’s voice filled the room filled the warrior with a strange feeling of dread.

“My name’s Blackwall. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He said, slowly moving to the side until he could face Quinton. His face tensed in anger at the site. Quinton looked to be seven years old and was almost completely covered with some form of injury. His face was black and blue with cuts sporadically covering the area. What little he could see of Quinton’s arms through the rips in his ragged shirt were grimy and dirty, no doubt covering more injuries.

“Quinton?” Blackwall pressed again as Cullen appeared at the door. Blackwall held a hand up as Cullen opened his mouth to speak, freezing the commander in his place.

“My friends and I are here to help you, I promise.” Blackwall continued almost sighing in relief when Quinton began to relax slightly.

“You-you won’t hurt me?” Quinton asked, voice quiet and rough as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“I won’t touch you at all if you don’t want me to.” Blackwall confirmed, looking up to see most of the Inner Circle crowded around the doorway.

“Okay,” Quinton said again, shifting slightly in his position.

“Do you want to move out here?” Blackwall asked. “We could clean you up a bit.” He offered. Quinton nodded furiously, almost scrambling in his haste to move over to Blackwall. He froze the moment he caught sight of the crowd at the door, shifting his body slightly to hide behind the warrior.

“Are you going to hurt me?” He asked them, peeking out from behind Blackwall’s leg slightly. When numerous looks of fury visibly crossed some of their faces he jerked behind Blackwall once more, his body beginning to shake. Blackwall quickly made a shooing motion with his hand, and fortunately Cullen and Josephine got the message, shepherding the group away from Quinton.

“I promised you we would help you remember? There won’t come near you if you don’t want them too,” Blackwall said, turning around to face the cowering child.

“They were angry at me.” Quinton said, voice shaking as tears pooled in his eyes. “They always hurt me when they’re angry at me.” He said desolately, his voice turning somewhat desperate. Blackwall’s eyes widened.

“Who hurts you? Quinton?” He asked, leaning forward. Quinton turned his head to the side, shrinking his body back into a defensive stance. Blackwall sighed, gently placing his hand on Quinton’s arm.

“I promise, they weren’t angry at you. They just mad that you got hurt.” Blackwall explain, gently pushing the boy forward.

“Come on. You wanted a wash did you not?” He asked, leading the way out of the room. He could hear the sound of small footsteps following him, so he led the longer but quieter way through the fortress to the bathing area which was fortunately empty. Mostly underground, the room had no permanent roof, letting the sunlight in to reflect off the water surface which covered the majority of the floor, growing deeper the further in. Quinton almost tripped over numerous times in his haste to undress and climb into a bath that looked more like a hot spring that an actual bath. Heated water was constantly poured in from a small waterfall at the other side of the room. Blackwall sighed as Quinton dived into the water, scrubbing aggressively at his skin. It was going to be one hell of an interrogation finding out what happened to him. He decided to start out easy.

“How old are you Quinton?” He asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance to prevent any potential bathers from disturbing the bathing child.

“Seven,” Quinton responded hesitantly. “And a half,” he added quickly, rubbing at some residual dirt on his upper arm.

“Why were you so scared earlier?” Blackwall asked next. Quinton frowned slightly.

“I thought you were one of them. I thought you all were one of them.” He said refocusing his washing attempts as he realised that what he thought was dirt was actually a bruise.

“One of who?” Blackwall asked gently, aware this question caused Quinton to close down last time. He was silent, waiting patiently for an answer.

“They abducted me a few weeks ago. I don’t really know who they are.” Quinton said finally.

“Did they tell you what they wanted?” He continued cautiously, eyes sharply watching Quinton for any sense of emotional distress. Quinton shrugged.

“Money. Same as usual.” He said, tone blank. Blackwall blinked in surprise.

“This happens often?” Blackwall asked, his confusion overcoming his interrogation. Quinton stared at him, backing away slightly when her realised how close he was to the man.

“I’m the youngest child of a rich and influential noble family.” He said in explanation, his tone as close to condescending as a child in his position could get to. Blackwall stood up with a small sigh.

“I’m going to go get you a change of clothes; will you be okay here on your own? No-one will bother you in here, promise.” Black said, staying in place as Quinton gave him a small glance and paused in his frantic scrubbing.

“Don’t take too long,” Quinton pleaded quietly, turning away from Blackwall. The swordsman never ran so fast in his life. He was back with a shirt a pants as close to Quinton’s size as possible. When he returned to the pool, Quinton was mostly clean, only serving to show a horrifying amount of scars and bruises covering his body.

“I’m back,” Blackwall said quietly, wincing when the child almost jumped out of his skin. His absence hadn’t done any good for Quinton’s emotions it would seem.

“You came back,” Quinton said, some form of awe entering his voice as he reached for a nearby towel. Blackwall frowned.

“Of course I came back.” He said, looking away to let Quinton get dressed.

“The nice ones never come back,” the boy said quietly, letting the towel drop to the floor as he walked over to Blackwall, keeping a careful distance between them. Blackwall stayed quiet at that statement as he led Quinton from the room.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, turning to look behind him. Quinton shook his head violently.

“I just…” He trailed off awkwardly, looking to the side.

“What is it?” Blackwall asked, pausing to allow the child to catch up to him.

“I’m really tired,” Quinton blurted out. “Can I sleep, please?” He asked, almost desperately. Blackwall nodded quickly.

“Yes, of course. I’ll take you to my room, okay?” He offered, changing direction to take some of the less travelled halls to his room. His eyes caught Leliana’s as he passed by the kitchen and he mouthed what was going on. She gave him a nod and turned back to where she was berating the cook. Before long, Blackwall was pushing open the door to his room, letting Quinton walk in first. His room was on the small side, as he didn’t use it often. He preferred the space he had made above the barn rather than his official room. Quinton hesitated once inside the room and Blackwall pulled the covers back quickly and stepping back.

“I’ll be outside the door. I won’t move.” He promised, heading towards the small window. Quinton nodded, a small smile crossing his face as he climbed into the large bed and curled into a ball under the blankets and furs. Blackwall quickly pulled the piece of cloth that acted as curtains over the window and headed out the door. He was unsurprised to find the majority of the inner circle waiting for him as he closed the door softly behind him.

“Well?” Cassandra asked, her worry making her tone more brusque than usual. Blackwall sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“This spell is going to be hard on all of us.”


End file.
